


Committee

by magickmoons



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Gen, Injury, Season/Series 09, Team Dynamics, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 10:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2266251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickmoons/pseuds/magickmoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Until half an hour ago, Cam had been in there too, stationed between Jackson's bed and Sam's, across the aisle from Teal'c, determined not to move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Committee

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over a year ago for a prompt at taming the muse (I have no idea what the original prompt was), and held it for further editing. Finally got around to the editing ;)

The hallway was quiet and deserted, and Cam leaned against the wall wearily as he listened to the voices coming from the infirmary. Not the voices he wanted to hear, not his team -- laid up in there, medicated, sleeping. Until half an hour ago, he'd been in there too, stationed between Jackson's bed and Sam's, across the aisle from Teal'c, determined not to move. Until General O'Neill walked in -- stormed in wouldn't be an overstatement -- the black cloud around him almost palpable. Cam was on his feet before he remembered the cast and teetered a bit, but stayed standing.

O'Neill's nod of acknowledgement had been brusque, and Cam had quickly excused himself. He wouldn't go far, but it was obvious the general wanted time alone with his former team. Cam chuckled dryly to himself, dropping his head softly against the concrete wall. There was nothing 'former' about it; they were still O'Neill's. And how he had kept them in line was a secret Cam was dying to know.

There had been silence for a while, but now he could hear O'Neill and Carolyn's voices, O'Neill's raised at times, then forcibly restrained. A few minutes later, the general came out into the hallway. He looked angry, but tilted his head in some type of odd satisfaction when he saw Cam standing there.

Cam straightened up, but kept his weight against the wall. O'Neill stared at him for a minute, steely-eyed, making Cam feel like he was back in boot camp.

"Lieutenant Colonel Mitchell," the general barked. "Whose team is that in there?"

"Mine, Sir." He was still weighing different shades of 'I take full responsibility' when the general responded.

"Are you sure? Because what I’m reading in the mission reports, what I heard from Landry downstairs, it sure as hell doesn’t sound like that. It sounds like you took a goddamn poll."

The problem with starting backed against the wall was that there was nowhere to go when the general got directly in his face. _Stare straight ahead, control your breathing, and answer._

"Jackson and Colonel Carter had some differing ideas. We were trying to achieve too many objectives at one time, Sir."

O'Neill backed away one step, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. "Colonel, you had two objectives: you had your mission objective, and you had the objective of bringing your team home safe and sound. Did you achieve either of those?"

Cam swallowed. "No, General."

"No, you did not." O'Neill took a step back and glanced at the infirmary door. "Fortunately, all three of them will make a complete recovery. As for you..."

Cam kept his gaze steady, but he could feel his heart racing. He had been the golden boy his whole career, and it had taken him a matter of months to throw away his dream job, the culmination of years of work. Technically, General Landry was the only one who could remove him from the team, but he couldn't fool himself into thinking that if O'Neill wanted him gone, there was anyone who could save him.

O'Neill's voice was hard when he looked back at Cam. "You are the leader of SG-1. It is your job to listen to their ideas, their opinions, to collect all the data, and then to make your decision."

Cam swallowed. "Yes, Sir."

"There will be missions that you come back and they will be pissed as hell at you. And you’ll get the eyebrow, the suppressed anger, the silent treatment. And sometimes it’ll last for days. You’ll join them in meetings or at meals and it'll feel like it will never be the same again. But you know what? They’ll be alive and whole and here."

O'Neill paused, winced, looked off to the side. "Believe me, you think you feel like shit now -- you don't want to see the day they don't all make it back."

Cam couldn't -- didn't want to -- imagine that. He knew it had happened to O'Neill more than once. It had been pure arrogance to think that his SG-1 would somehow be immune.

The general's glance turned steely again as he returned his focus to Cam once more. "If I _ever_ hear about you leading SG-1 by committee again, you will be off the team, out of the SGC. Hell, you’ll never see the inside of a cockpit again. Do you understand me, Colonel?"

"Yes, General." Cameron continued standing straight and staring just past O'Neill. It was as much a general lessening of tension in the hallway as what he could gather of O'Neill's facial expression peripherally that let him know the tirade was over.

"Relax, Mitchell. Your foot's got to be killing you." O'Neill's voice had warmed by several degrees.

Cam shrugged, his eyes straying to the infirmary door. They were all in there and here he was with a simple broken bone; an avulsion fracture, Carolyn had called it, probably sustained when they were sliding down that hillside. 

"You taken any pain meds tonight?" the general asked.

"No, Sir." Cam looked at him questioningly.

"You planning to?"

"No, Sir." He'd had enough pain medication to last him the rest of his life. He only took it now in extreme situations. A throbbing foot in a walking cast didn't qualify.

"Follow me, then." O'Neill started walking, but stopped when Cam questioned him.

"Sir?"

The general looked back. "Dr. Lam has assured me that we are not getting back in there tonight." That would be the reason for the raised voice. "So, I am taking you out for a drink. You look like you could use it."

"I..." 

"Obviously, I can't make it an order, Colonel. So, how about a plea to come keep an old general company? I'll have you back in a couple of hours. Lam will be gone or asleep, and you can sneak back in." The general’s eyes strayed back to the doorway behind Cam and a pained look crossed his face. "That's what I always did, anyway."

"Of course, Sir." Cam didn't miss the general's usage of the past tense, or the resignation in his expression. He got the feeling that O'Neill wouldn't be coming back to the base tonight.

O’Neill nodded and turned again toward the elevators. Cam made his way slowly behind him, thankful that his team were all alive and, that when this night was over, he would be the one coming back to sit by their sides.


End file.
